It is NEVER my mom's fault

She has, for as long back as I can remember, shouted at me on every alternate day of my life to organize my wardrobe. One fine morning I discover that her wardrobe has become a bit untidy. Yippee! Now’s my chance to payback. “Mom”, I shout, “Your wardrobe’s messy. Clean it at once”, I say with a good imitation of hers. “Shut up”, she shouts right back. “I go to work every morning. I come back and prepare food. I keep running behind you guys all the time. It is completely justified if it gets disorganized once in a blue moon. On the other hand, what work do YOU have? Nothing. And look at the state of YOUR cupboard. Resembles a garbage bin. Go clear it up RIGHT NOW.”

Sounds familiar? I could bet my entire left toe (I need the leg) that scenes of such kind repeat themselves in almost every household. I doubt that there’ll be anyone (at least anyone my age) who’ll disagree when I say that mothers have this unique ability of never accepting their mistakes (especially those faults which they keep shouting at us for) and instead they blame it others. No mother is an exception. Mine is a case study.

So here I am listing 3 exceedingly outrageous incidences when my mother outdid her own self in this witty game of denying and blaming that only moms know how to play.

1.)  Dated: 15.10.2010

Mom wanted to feed me 'Goud (sweet) Shira'. I told her to wait a moment till I could finish typing. But maternal instincts over-powering her, she took a large helping in a spoon and bent over to feed me. But before I could even open my mouth, she ended up spilling it all over my laptop. The excessively ghee-soaked shira not only managed to get in every nooks and crevices of my laptop's keyboard but also coated my laptop screen with oil.

BUT IT WAS NOT HER FAULT.

One look at my face, she knew I was too angry to even scream at her. To cover up her folly, she tripled her normal volume and informed me that I was stupid to sit with the laptop on the sofa! She went on and on about how laptops should never be used while sitting on a sofa.

Oh, yeah right. Where did I get the incorrect notion that laptops were invented so that one could carry them around as per comfort? How exceedingly stupid of me! Not Mom’s fault at all; all mine, all mine! D’uh !

2.)  Dated: 28.10.2010

My matchbox-sized MP3 player was kept on my bed. Mom came from office and unceremoniously dumped her purse, dupatta etc on my bed (as usual). When she went to pick it all up, she unknowingly caused my MP3 player to fall off the bed onto the floor.

BUT IT WAS NOT HER FAULT.

Bed, again, is no place to keep the player lying around. One small MP3 clusters the whole bed. Stupid me!

But the next one really does take the cake !

3.)  Dated: 29.10.2010

Mom broke the coffee bottle just after she had finished cleaning the refrigerator. She opened the door of the freezer compartment and (no witnesses as to how but) whoops-a-daisy; down fell the bottle!

BUT IT WAS NOT HER FAULT.

Our maid, Suvarna Mavshi, had cribbed about being over-worked while cleaning the fridge and it was her ill-feeling towards her work which had caused the bad luck!

Love you mom for these outrageous complaints which made me double up with laughter. Keep them coming with all your daily scoldings which have groomed me into what I am today !

All Is Not Well

There’s this classmate of mine who worked very hard for 2 years for IIT and scored brilliant marks in every mock exam but broke down completely on the D-day; he, who was considered a sure shot IIT-JEE top ranker, couldn't even qualify the exam. In fact, his shaken confidence affected him in all other exams that followed and he couldn't secure good marks in any. He then took a drop and will be appearing for all of those exams again this year. I hope he has maintained his cool this time to achieve what he deserves. However, another friend of mine could not handle this added pressure. He did not give the 2nd paper of IIT-JEE 2010 because he thought he hadn't performed well in the first. All this after he had got an 8000 something rank in IIT-JEE 2009 and then had taken a year drop and gone to Kota to study even more religiously. For the past couple of months, we’ve been reading about student suicides on almost daily basis. Is it surprising then that they coincide with the months of exams?
Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong over here. It would be easier to take a dialogue from ‘Taare Zameen Par’ or ‘3 Idiots’ and put the blame on the whole damn system. “Pura system-hi galat hai”, isn’t it? It’s very comfortable to sit there and say that. Have you ever wondered what might have been going on in that student’s mind before he committed suicide? How torturous were his feelings that thought death calmer and peaceful? How badly can a child be affected by pressure that he cannot even bring himself to appear for that very exam for which he had burned the midnight oil for years together? How much tension must he be carrying that it affected him to the point that he blanked out during the exam?
What is this tension, this pressure all about? I am sorry to say, but more often then not, majority of it comes from parents. They might not even be aware of it but their expectations are enough to frighten the child. It always remains at the back of his mind that my parents have given me so much, invested all their time and money, and now, if I don’t perform, they’ll be dejected like hell. ‘Cause, often, parents are more affect by their ward’s failure than he himself. And seeing his parent’s disappointment affects the child greater in turn. Sometimes, the expectations of their teachers also added to it. You don’t need to be an Einstien to know that it’s tougher to walk with lots of weights attached to you. Look, I am not ‘blaming’ parents or teachers. What I’m trying to say is that they should make sure that the child is burden free; only then can he run.
And again there is this thing called society and peer pressure. If he could score so much, why cant I or why cant my child? This race is enough to snuff out someone’s life, either literally or figuratively. Why do we need a suicide note to wake us up? Why can’t we see the depression sucking him in like a whirlpool? Forgive me for the ultra-clichéd Hindi film line but “ek depression mein jee raha student pal pal hazaroon maut marta hain.”
It isn’t right to solely blame the education system. As Prof. Viru Sahastrabuddhe rightly asks, “Agar ek student pressure nahi utha paya to tum humko dosh doge? Aage jaa ke life mein isse bhi jya pressure wale situations aayengi. Tab bhi kya tum dusron-ko hi dosh doge?” But it is imperative that the student be assured, with conviction, that these exams are not the end of life; that it really wont be a great deal if he fails. And the parents really need to believe in what they say because a child is sensitive enough to know what his parents actually think.
Very few movies like TZP and 3 Idiots have come up which deal with the issue of student psychology. And its time to wake up and take a leaf out of them and help your child. ‘Cause, looking at the depression all around me, all is not well, bhaiyya… certainly all is not well!

The Species Called 'Parlekar'

Note : The following post is in a mixture of Languages - English and Minglish (that is, Marathi written in English alphabets) because that is the language of the place about which this article is written.

Pu. La. Deshpande hyancha famous essay “tumhala kon vhaychay – mumbaikar punekar ki nagpurkar?” hyaat survatilach ek vaakya aahe - “Tashi Maharashtrat shekdo gaava aahet. Pan jyanchya pudhe kar jodave ashi fakta teen-ch khaas sthala – Pune, Nagpur aani Mumbai” Pan hyach barobar, Maharashtrat ajun ek gaav aahe je hya list madhe place of honour deserve karta aani te mhanje Parla. By “Parla” I meant Vile Parle east.

Describing the Parlekar species of humans is a mammoth task in itself. It would be easier to understand them if you have some idea of their elder cousins – the Punekars; because Parla is Mumbai’s mini-Pune. Their very own newsletter called ‘Aamhi Parlekar’ states the following –

“Friends, Surfers and Parlekars,

Vile Parle, a suburb of some of the most progressive societies in western India. But to some it is still a small village in the heart of Mumbai, just Parle! Home to industrialists, litterateurs, social reformers and artistes; a classy-funky mix, like no other on the map of modern Mumbai. Parlekars share an exciting relationship that bridges commerce and culture, technology and tradition. 'Aamhi Parlekar' or to put it in the millennium jargon - We Parleites!, the community newsletter, has been aiming at binding every household for growth beyond language, caste and socio-economic background. We have emmerged as a powerful media for social interaction and constructive communication. Understanding the need of society, we encourage all Parlekars to stand together by a good cause.”

Parlyaatlya lokanna aapan Parlekar asnyacha “jaajvalya abhimaan” asto; samanya Mumbaikarachya bhaashet – maaz. Maaz paishyacha nahi, bara ka! Parlyaat bharpur shrimanti aahe he khara but they’ll never show it off. All over the country, your status mat be equalled to the number of cars you own but in case of Parlekars, it depends on your child’s academic or extra-curricular performances. An average Parlekar parent has more knowledge about the lessons in their child’s school textbook than many school teachers. Again, there is also a special case of Parlekar parent wherein the mother, along with keeping a tab on their own child’s progress, has a diary maintaining the examination marks of their ward’s classmates too!

Parla ek “gaav” aahe asa mhanayla harkat nahi; kaaran parylachya kontyahi eka toka-pasun diameter chya dusyra tokala minimum fare madhe pochta yeta (including the super-fast meters of some rickshaws)! Speaking of rickshaws, let me introduce you to the Parlekar rickshaw-walas. There are an eternally laid back species whose only aim in life is to drive as fewer passengers as possible and to show as arrogant face expressions as possible to those passengers who dare ask them to cross the threshold of Parla, even to adjacent places like Andheri and Santa Cruz! They are born to serve and cater to the needs of the ever lazy Parlekars who need a rick just to communicate from Subhash road to Hanuman Road! Heaven help all of them! Tumhi Pu.La.Deshpande hyanchya “Asaami Asaami” madhla ‘Parlyachi Mavshi’ vaachla aselach. Non-Parlekars cha parlyaat pahilyandi asaach gondhal hota. ‘Coz Parla is a maze of infinite lanes and by-lanes. But if you’ve been brought up in Parla, then there are very few Parlekars who do not fancy an evening stroll along these roads.

It is commonly joked that all roads in Parla be covered with zebra-crossing stripes coz, according to Parlekars, the roads are the sole birth-right of pedestrians and that they are obliging vehicle owners by allowing them to use the roads. Parlyaat footpath varun chalna, rastyachya kadene vagaire chalna he mhanje agdi ghaanpana cha lakshan; rasta ha gadyaan-sathi banavlela nasun tyachya barobbar madhun agdi gappaa maarat maarat chalnya sathi banavlela aahe asa Parlekarancha thaam matt aahe. Car-owners are required to honk and wait till the group of ladies standing bang in middle of the road, holding their extremely important gossip conversations, notice the horns and then oblige the driver a great deal by moving aside. (Those ladies wont forget to give the vehicle owner scathing looks and the less blessed drivers are even able to hear things like “kay mele rastyachya agdi madhun gaadya chalavtat!) An RTO test might give you the licence to drive but one is considered to have truly learnt the art of driving when you’ve successfully navigated the Parla Market road!

Parla is well-known for its cultural society. It has its own “Parle Mohatsav” and the famous Tilak Mandir hosts the “Grahak Peth”, “Khadya Melava”, “Majestic Gappa” etc; events that make a Parlekar proud. Another thing which makes Parlekars hold their heads high is its strong education system. Parla boasts of the very famous Parle Tilak Vidyalaya (PTV); a school known all over for producing scholars and great people like Pu.La.Deshpande. The Parlekar kids are eternally divided into 2 categories – PTVians and non-PTVians. Non-PTVians then generally are the MBHS crowd. The school badge states that MBHS stands for Madhavrao Bhagwat High School. But there are other forms which are more commonly used for them by PTVians, for example - Manda Buddhi High School. If you wish to know more about the Parlekar students and their further division into PTV and MBHS crowd, it would help if you’re a viewer of the famous Marathi daily soap – Asambhav. Adinath Shastri would be a true MBHS guy who personifies the idiom “empty vessels make more noise”. While Priya Shastri is, without a doubt, a PTVian; bhayankar aagauu aani nako titka superiority complex.

But Parlekars are a species to be respected. If you remember, a couple of years back, there had been a lot of news in the papers about the SSC board exams wherein full marks were awarded to all students for a particular question in the maths paper. It had so happened that one set out of the 4 sets for the maths paper was a bit difficult than the rest. It were none other than the Parlekar parents who had marched up to the education minister and compelled the board to award full marks to everyone to avoid injustice. Infact, even in case of the recent 90:10 SSC quota debate which is grabbing headlines, it is the Parlekars’ fight to make sure that SSC students do not suffer. Sooner or later, you’ll respect these people. Aaho, senior citizenschi duparchi zopmod hote mhanun chakka vimaanacha route badlun ghetla Parlekaranni mhanje bagha! Great aahet te; kimbahuna dusra kahi shabdach nahiye!

The term “Parlekars” is not just confined to Homo sapiens alone. There are also species of Parlekar dogs, Parlekar cows and Parlekar crows amongst others. Parlekar dogs bark at anyone and anything altogether. Like all other dogs, they bark when they see a cat, or when they see a man running, and when they loose their heads, they chase cars like many other dogs do too. But, as a Parlekar speciality, they’ll bark when they see someone walking peacefully just to watch the fun when he gets scared, or they’ll bark to wake every other dog in locality and create a racket drawing people up their walls, and they’ll bark when they’re bored in the afternoon, and they’ll bark just to show that they can bark!

Parla hi jaga khup niarali aahe; te jag veglach aahe. Yes, they are a lot who are so excessively proud that they’ve their own cable channel called “Parlekar channel”. But again, they are those who’ll make sure that their future generations profit and they’ll take steps in that direction. Parlekaranna maaz aahe he khara, pan kuthetari to maaz justified aahe. Through this essay, I’ve tried to give you a primary introduction to the species called Parlekars pan Parlyacha anubhav ghetlyashivay Parlekaranchi dhamaal purnapane kalnaar nahi. But at the end of it, I can say only one thing- tumhi jar Parlyaat rahnaare asaal tar Parlekar honya-sarkhi majja nahi he Parlyaat jaglyavarach kalu shakel!

The Race

This a poem that I came across in my younger brother's standard Xth textbook. It's a rhyme from which I derieve great inspiration.

THE RACE
attributed to Dr. D.H. "Dee" Groberg

Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,

My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.

A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,

Excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race

Or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.

Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,

And each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,

To win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.

One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,

Was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”

But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,

The little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,

And midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.

As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.

Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,

Which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”

He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,

And ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,

His mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.

“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”

But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face

With a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”

So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.

“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”

Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...

But trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.

“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?

I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”

But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,

For all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.

Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!

You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”

So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,

And he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,

Still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.

Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.

Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,

Head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.

But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,

The crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,

You would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”

“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,

The memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.

And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.

And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,

Another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”

Missing the Lizzie McGuire TV Series

Lizzie McGuire is a Disney Channel Original Series that aired on the Disney Channel from 2001 to 2004. Its target demographic was preteens and adolescents. The TV show was created by Terri Minsky. The show's creatively offbeat, mixed media format stood out from the rest of the Disney Channel's programming of the time - and in essence, became the channel's flagship, and definitive show of the early 2000s.
I got hooked onto Lizzie McGuire Show during the later part of my 10th standard exams in 2006. Lizzie appeared to be this shy teenage girl, and is self-conscious middle schooler. Miranda was one of her best friends. The other was David Gordan or Gordo, as he was more popularly known as. He was the genius of their school. Lizzie, Miranda and Gordo formed the main triumvirate. Lizzie had a younger brother Matt, whose antics while troubling Lizzie made me suspicious whether his character was inspired from my own devilish younger bro. And then, of course, there were the other wonderful characters of Jo & Sam McGuire (Matt & Lizzie's parents), Kate Saunders (the most-popular, most-good-looking girl in school & Lizzie's enemy), Ethan Craft (the common crush of all girls in the school, including Lizzie's), Mr. Digby (the cool & laid-back teacher), Lanny & Melina (Matt's friends; Lanny never spoke a word and Melina was so shrewd, she could give the FBI agents a run for their money).
And, again, there was this animated Lizzie who represented the title character's inner thoughts, addressing the audience directly in the manner of a Greek chorus. She would pop-in in between the scenes and would have the audience in splits with her wacky comments!
During break from studies, it was great to get lost in Lizzie's world; to watch Lizzie, Gordo & Miranda discuss their problems, to laugh when Lizzie & Matt would fight, to see how her parents cared for their children, to gun for Lizzie when Kate troubled her, to smile satisfactorily when they over-came their obstacles; it was a mesmerizing world alright! So what if it was only on screen? I got attached to each and every character. I loved relishing in their joys and problems and their hilarious tactics.
Unfortunately, it was only a 65 episode show. But Disney channel kept on showing its re-runs. and I, along with many others of my age, continued enjoying them! But I guess showing 65 episodes for 365 days in each of 2 years made no sense to the Disney Channel, so they took it off air in 2008. Mom used to scold me when I would watch the same episode for what was probably the 25th time, but I could have lived on the staple diet of Lizzie McGuire shows for 2 years more atleast! 25th time or 125th time, I don't care! With the entire world of Lizzie, just bring it on, man!
Missing Lizzie's world very much... Why can't they show even 1 episode per week or something?

Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam's Famous Speech

DR. APJ Abdul Kalam's speech in Hyderabad - A MUST READ FOR ALL INDIANS-

As desired by the President of India, this paper is for circulation.

Thanks: Prsedent's Office, The President of India.

DR A P J Abdul Kalam's Speech in Hyderabad :

"I have three visions for India. In 3000 Years of our history, people from all over the world have come and invaded us, captured our lands, conquered our minds. From Alexander onwards, The Greeks, the Turks, the Moguls, the Portuguese, the British, the French, the Dutch, all of them came and looted us, took over what was ours. Yet we have not done this to any other nation. We have not conquered anyone. We have not grabbed their land, their culture, and their history and tried to enforce our way of life on them. Why? Because we respect the freedom of others. That is why my first vision is that of FREEDOM. I believe that India got its first vision of this in 1857, when we started the war of independence. It is this freedom that we must protect and nurture and build on. If we are not free, no one will respect us.

My second vision for India is DEVELOPMENT. For fifty years we have been a developing nation. It is time we see ourselves as a developed nation. We are among top 5 nations of the world in terms of GDP. We have 10 percent growth rate in most areas. Our poverty levels are falling. Our achievements are being globally recognized today. Yet we lack the self-confidence to see ourselves as a developed nation, self- reliant and self-assured. Isn't this incorrect?

I have a third vision. India must stand up to the world. Because I believe that, unless India stands up to the world, no one will respect us. Only STRENGTH respects strength. We must be strong not only as a military power but also as an economic power. Both must go hand-in-hand.

My good fortune was to have worked with three great minds. Dr. Vikram Sarabhai of the Dept of space, professor Satish Dhawan, who succeeded him and Dr Brahm Prakash, father of nuclear material. I was lucky to have worked with all three of them closely and consider this the great opportunity of my life. I see four milestones in my career: Twenty years I spent in ISRO. I was given the opportunity to be the project director for India's first satellite launch vehicle, SLV3. The one that launched Rohini. These years played a very important role in my life of Scientist. After my ISRO years, I joined DRDO and got a chance to be the part of India's guided missile program. It was my second bliss when Agni met its mission requirements in 1994. The Dept of Atomic Energy and DRDO had this tremendous partnership in the recent nuclear tests, on May 11 and 13. This was the third bliss. The joy of participating with my team in these nuclear tests and proving to the world that India can make it, that we are no longer a developing nation but one of them. It made me feel very proud as an Indian. The fact that we have now developed for Agni a re-entry structure, for which we have developed this new material. A very light material called carbon-carbon. One day an orthopedic surgeon from Nizam Institute of Medical Sciences visited my laboratory. He lifted the material and found it so light that he took me to his hospital and showed me his patients. There were these little girls and boys with heavy metallic calipers weighing over three Kg. each, dragging their feet around. He said to me: Please remove the pain of my patients. In three weeks, we made these Floor reaction Orthosis 300-gram calipers and took them to the orthopedic center. The children didn't believe their eyes. From dragging around a three kg. load on their legs, they could now move around. Their parents had tears in their eyes. That was my fourth bliss!

Why is the media here so negative? Why are we in India so embarrassed to recognize our own strengths, our achievements? We are such a great nation. We have so many amazing success stories but we refuse to acknowledge them. Why? We are the first in milk production. We are number one in Remote sensing satellites. We are the second largest producer of wheat. We are the second largest producer of rice. Look at Dr Sudarshan, he has transferred the tribal village into a self-sustaining, self-driving unit. There are millions of such achievements but our media is only obsessed in the bad news and failures and disasters. I was in Tel Aviv once and I was reading the Israeli newspaper. It was the day after a lot of attacks and bombardments and deaths had taken place. The Hamas had struck. But the front page of the newspaper had the picture of a Jewish gentleman who in five years had transformed his desert into an orchid and a granary. It was this inspiring picture that everyone woke up to. The gory details of killings, bombardments, deaths, were inside in the newspaper, buried among other news. In India we only read about death, sickness, terrorism, crime. Why are we so NEGATIVE?

Another question: Why are we, as a nation so obsessed with foreign things? We want foreign TVs, we want foreign shirts. We want foreign technology. Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that self-respect comes with self-reliance?

I was in Hyderabad giving this lecture, when a 14 year old girl asked me for my autograph. I asked her what her goal in life is. She replied: I want to live in a developed India. For her, you and I will have to build this developed India. You must proclaim - India is not an under-developed nation; it is a highly developed nation.

Do you have 10 minutes? Allow me to come back with a vengeance. Got 10 minutes for your country? If yes then read; otherwise, choice is yours. YOU say that our government is inefficient.
YOU say that our laws are too old.
YOU say that the municipality does not pick up the garbage.
YOU say that the phones don't work, the railways are a joke, The airline is the worst in the world, mails never reach their destination.
YOU say that our country has been fed to the dogs and is the absolute pits.
YOU say, say and say. What do YOU do about it?

Take a person on his way to Singapore. Give him a name-YOURS. Give him a face - YOURS. YOU walk out of the airport and you are at your International best. In Singapore you don't throw cigarette butts on the roads or eat in the stores. YOU are as proud of their Underground links as they are. You pay $5 (approx Rs 60) to drive through Orchard Road (equivalent of Mahim Causeway or Pedder Road) between 5 PM and 8 PM. YOU come back to the parking lot to punch your parking ticket if you have over stayed in a restaurant or a shopping mall irrespective of your status identity. In Singapore you don't say anything, DO YOU?
YOU wouldn't dare to eat in public during Ramadan, in Dubai.
YOU would not dare to go out without your head covered in Jeddah. YOU would not dare to buy an employee of the telephone exchange in London at 10 pounds (Rs 650) a month to, "see to it that my STD and ISD calls are billed to someone else."
YOU would not dare to speed beyond 55 mph (88 km/h) in Washington and then tell the traffic cop, "Jaanta hai main kaun hoon (Do you know who I am?). I am so and so's son. Take your two bucks and get lost."
YOU wouldn't chuck an empty coconut shell anywhere other than the garbage pail on the beaches in Australia and New Zealand.
Why don't YOU spit Paan on the streets of Tokyo?
Why don't YOU use examination jockeys or buy fake certificates in Boston???
We are still talking of the same YOU.
YOU who can respect and conform to a foreign system in other countries but cannot in your own. You who will throw papers and cigarettes on the road the moment you touch Indian ground. If you can be an involved and appreciative citizen in an alien country, why cannot you be the same here in India?

Once in an interview, the famous Ex-municipal commissioner of Bombay, Mr Tinaikar, had a point to make. "Rich people's dogs are walked on the streets to leave their affluent droppings all over the place," he said. "And then the same people turn around to criticize and blame the authorities for inefficiency and dirty pavements. What do they expect the officers to do? Go down with a broom every time their dog feels the pressure in his bowels? In America every dog owner has to clean up after his pet has done the job. Same in Japan. Will the Indian citizen do that here?" He's right.

We go to the polls to choose a government and after that forfeit all responsibility. We sit back wanting to be pampered and expect the government to do everything for us whilst our contribution is totally negative. We expect the government to clean up but we are not going to stop chucking garbage all over the place nor are we going to stop to pick a up a stray piece of paper and throw it in the bin. We expect the railways to provide clean bathrooms but we are not going to learn the proper use of bathrooms. We want Indian Airlines and Air
India to provide the best of food and toiletries but we are not going to stop pilfering at the least opportunity.

This applies even to the staff that is known not to pass on the service to the public. When it comes to burning social issues like those related to women, dowry, girl child and others, we make loud drawing room protestations and continue to do the reverse at home. Our excuse? "It's the whole system which has to change, how will it matter if I alone forego my sons' rights to a dowry." So who's going to change the system? What does a system consist of? Very conveniently for us it consists of our neighbours, other households, other cities, other communities and the government.
But definitely not me and YOU. When it comes to us actually making a positive contribution to the system we lock ourselves along with our families into a safe cocoon and look into the distance at countries far away and wait for a Mr Clean to come along & work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of his hand or we leave the country and run away.

Like lazy cowards hounded by our fears we run to America to bask in their glory and praise their system. When New York becomes insecure we run to England. When England experiences unemployment, we take the next flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war struck, we demand to be rescued and brought home by the Indian government. Everybody is out to abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of feeding the system. Our conscience is mortgaged to money.

Dear Indians, The article is highly thought inductive, calls for a great deal of introspection and pricks one's conscience too.... I am echoing J F Kennedy's words to his fellow Americans to relate to Indians????
"ASK WHAT WE CAN DO FOR INDIA AND DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE TO MAKE INDIA WHAT AMERICA AND OTHER WESTERN COUNTRIES ARE TODAY"
Let’s do what India needs from us. Forward this mail to each Indian for a change instead of sending Jokes or junk mails. Thank you,

Dr Abdul Kalam
(PRESIDENT OF INDIA)

Rains in Mumbai

The older I get, the more I seem to be in love with the city of dreams. But I have to admit it – I like Mumbai best when it rains. Put it down to living in a city that has no seasons; just hot, hotter and hottest. But when it rains, Mumbai comes in to its own; almost comes down close to having a change of weather. The streets become greyer, the skies full of dark clouds and there is love and thunder in the air.
The rains bring out the best in the city. Motorists stopping for stranded pedestrians. People sharing umbrellas; taking in strays; excusing late arrivals at work; turning a blind eye to bare feet and sock-less shoes.
Yes, I love Mumbai in the rains. Soggy raincoats and dripping umbrellas; rattling window panes. Schools closed because of flooding. Trains delayed or cancelled. Erratic power supply. Entire offices stranded with nowhere to go. Ah, you may love the spring in New York, summer in London, winter in Paris; but nothing comes close to Mumbai in the rains. Urchins flashing in the flooded streets; cars stalled; bedraggled policemen; shanties covered with blue plastic; trees struck down by lightening; and roasted corn on the cob.
The rains in Mumbai. The hot chai and bun maska at the local Irani. A drive down the Worli sea face. A walk along Marine Drive. A movie at Eros. Coffee in CCD. A trip to Khandala; a hike to Matheran. A picnic at Juhu beach.; happy hour at the Pav Bhaji stall. A siesta tucked inside a thin quilt. Aah, there is nothing quite like Mumbai in the rains.
It’s a time when I want to buy every song about the rain that exists. Sit home and drink tea all day. Talk for hours to a friend on the phone. Mix a lemonade, sit back in the veranda and enjoy. Wear faded blue jeans and battered slippers. Give rides to strangers. Exchange umbrella woes. Take in shivering pups.
The rains in Mumbai. Much more dramatic than the rains in London. Much more romantic than the rains in Paris. Gentler than the rains in Cochin. A time for rejuvenation and renewal. A time for nature’s glory. Everything being washed clean again. The earth lifting its face to heaven in gratitude. An orchestra in the sky. Mumbai’s most blessed season. The rains in Mumbai take us back to school, where we splashed about in the mud; to Aksa beach, where the foam of the waves lash out on the rocks and the sand; to college, where we arrive very wet and very late.
We do not have a winter and we have never seen a fall. As for the spring, it seems to pass us by. But what Mumbai has is the rains. And by God – I love them!